Journey of the Heart
by Ranal Peredhil
Summary: Aragorn and Arwen have a daughter, Lantaraana. When her beloved father leaves on the Quest for the Ring, she defies her parents and follows her heart. This is her tale; a tale of courage, determination, and a love that could not die.


-Journey of the Heart-  
  
Vedui! Greetings all! Enclosed within this fanfiction is an epic tale spanning the events which took place before, during, and after the quest for the ring. As Tolkien's most loyal fan, this idea has been preying on my mind for years. It was not until I was abed with fever that this random product of my sleep-deprived mind became a reality. I have tried to hold true to characters and plots, but hey. No one's perfect.  
  
Disclaimer: I have included elements from the movies as well as the book, but sadly I own neither.  
  
Summary: Aragorn and Arwen have a daughter, Lantaraana, who has been raised as a ranger. When her beloved father leaves with the Fellowship, Lan decides to follow. This is her tale; a tale of courage, determination, and a love that could not die.  
  
-Prologue-  
  
"Atar, look!" A young girl of four held her discovery, a colored rock, to her father so that he too might share in her wonder. Any passerby would have to be blind to not see a relation between the two. The man, tall and lean, clad in the colors of the forest. Beneath a head of black hair, sharp blue eyes watched carefully. The child in the river, cheerful and bright, blue eyes full of wonder at the world. Taking the rock in his calloused hands, the normally withdrawn man smiled warmly.  
  
"A very special gift, little one." The girl crawled into his lap and listened as the man told a story, but shortly fell asleep. The man lifted her easily and carried her home, as he did most days. They were very close, this pair. Often they could be found traipsing through the forest, the man pointing out some plant or creature, while the girl soaked the knowledge up like a sponge.  
  
Four years later. The girl, now eight, sat astride a silver yearling as the man held the bridle. She had first raised the horse so that it would trust her, and was now learning to ride. As the horse walked a circle around the field, the man called, "Good job. You're a natural."  
  
The girl smiled at the praise and sat back, clucking softly. She squeezed harder with her legs as the horse began to trot. She never once wavered or felt afraid, even though the horse wore no saddle. She knew the man would never let her come to harm. He was her everything; her friend, her protector, her teacher, her father.  
  
Another four years. The girl, now twelve, held a bow in one hand, trying to pull an arrow out of a post. The man stood nearby, laughing at the girl as she nearly hung from the arrow. Her skills had greatly improved; she hit the target nine times out of ten. It was that one rogue arrow that had hit a post, and clung firm to the wood. She turned to the man and muttered darkly, "At least you're having fun."  
  
The man casually reached over and pulled the arrow out, handing it to the girl solemnly. "Here you are, My Lady." The girl shot him a withering glare but accepted the arrow. She took up her bow and returned to practice, half hoping that a rogue arrow flew in the man's direction. She didn't want to see him hurt, but he could use the scare.  
  
Another four years. The girl, sixteen and filthy, stood before her mother, mud encrusted clothes beginning to harden. Her hair was short, just coming to her chin, as she had decided to cut it earlier that day. With her head hanging as it was now, it barely hid her face. Her mother was less than pleased with her daughter's habit of running through the woods, getting scratched and dirty. "It isn't ladylike."  
  
The man finally spoke, coming to his daughter's defense. "She's no lady." He turned a rare smile to the girl, whose head had come up in indignation at his remark. Her eyes blazed in anger, but his gaze softened them. "She's a ranger." She returned the smile, feeling the pride in his statement, and knowing that they had won the argument.  
  
"You can't leave!" The girl, now a young woman of twenty, threw herself into the man's embrace. She had grown from a gawky youngster into a stunning beauty; long hair like black silk and intelligent ice-blue eyes. She was dressed as befitted her station in a flowing silver gown and circlet, but was used to travel-stained leathers. The man smiled at her, this time sadly.  
  
"This is one trek you cannot follow me on." He kissed her lightly on the forehead before turning to face his destiny.  
  
"Fear not, Lan," a blond elf spoke from over her shoulder. "I will keep the Dunédan safe."  
  
Lan clasped hands with her friend, worry clouding her eyes to gray. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes as she pulled him into a tight embrace. "And yourself, Legolas. And yourself." With a heavy heart she watched her friend and father depart, and made plans to follow.  
  
"Strider?" Pippin looked curiously at the ranger. A great weight hade settled itself over his friend's heart since they had left the house of Elrond. "Who was that girl?" There was no answer and Pippin fell silent, but almost shrieked when a voice spoke from behind him.  
  
"She is Lantaraana, Aragorn's daughter." Pippin turned to meet the cool gaze of Legolas. In the short time that he had known the elf, Pippin had grown to respect him. He found him honest and fair, but also possessing a good sense of humor. "They are very close." A faraway look, akin to homesickness, crept into his green eyes.  
  
"His daughter?" Pippin looked at Aragorn with new respect. He had never thought of the ranger as a family man, but it strangely seemed to fit.  
  
In the dark of night, a lone rider set forth from Imladris. A silver horse galloped along the same path the Fellowship had taken a week before. The rider seemed to blend with the shadows, except for blue eyes, which blazed out with determination. A melodious voice cried into the wind, "Ride on, Celebsilma! To Mordor!" The horse did not answer, but turned south.  
  
/-/-/-/-/-  
  
Such is the tale begun, and such shall it be continued. Namaarie! Farewell all! 


End file.
